


Scars

by medelrey



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 12:17:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7462944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medelrey/pseuds/medelrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon has loved Sansa as his sister, as his cousin, as his wife and love of his life. But he’s never truly realized how much he loved her until she tells him the stories behind her scars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt from a tumblr user: Jon doesn't realize how in love he is with Sansa until he sees the scars she has all over her body and gets to know how she got them and everything she's been through, from Joffrey's beatings to Ramsay's rapes.

Jon has loved Sansa as his sister, as his cousin, as his wife and love of his life. But he’s never truly realized how much he loved her until she tells him the stories behind her scars. Jon tells Sansa every tale behind his, but it takes longer for her to open up.

“And this one?” She asks, running her fingers over the crescent shaped one over his heart.

“You know that one. You know the stories.”

“I know,” she murmurs, “But they remind me you’re still here.”

“And yours? Tell me yours, Sansa. Let me in.”

Sansa sighs, sitting up and sighing in frustration. Jon never pushes hard, and Sansa wants to tell him, she’s still so scared to remember all the terrible things that caused them. “I don’t know if I can tell you, Jon. If I start, I might start crying and I’ll not be able to stop.”

Jon frowns, tracing his fingers over the apple of her cheek. “You needn’t tell me, then. It’s alright.”

“No,” she says, “Perhaps it’s time I told you.” Sansa takes a deep breath, wrapping her night shift tighter around her knees. She pulls her braid over one shoulder, steeling herself as she grabs Jon’s hand. She guides it until his fingers touch the small white line that mars her pretty mouth. “This is from Joffrey. Technically one of his guards. He was too much of a coward to do it himself. He said his mother told him a king never strikes his queen, so he had one of his men do it.”

Jon frowns as she continues. “He made me look at father’s head upon a spike. I told him perhaps Robb would bring me his instead.”

“I’d go back and kill him myself, if I could.”

“I know you would,” Sansa smiles.

“You’re so brave, Sansa. I admire you more than you know. And no one will ever touch you again.” Sansa half smiles, pulling down her shift to expose her shoulders and upper arms. They’re speckled with little nicks.

“What Ramsay did healed without much evidence though I feel them when it is too cold; when it snows and rains. I feel it when I lift something too heavy or lay wrong. He is long gone but I still feel what he did to me. One day I hope his memory shall disappear but I fear it will never happen.”

Jon touches Sansa’s skin with light fingers, leaning forward to press his lips to her arm. “If I had known…”

“I am so tired of hearing ‘ifs’. What if this? What if that? Perhaps we will always ask what could have been done differently, but the ink of the past is dry.”

Sansa sniffles as Jon stiffens. “I didn’t mean to come across so harshly. I know, I’ve said it myself. If I could go back, I would. I’d never leave these walls. But if we went back, I wouldn’t have you. We wouldn’t have each other.”

Jon places another kiss on Sansa’s shoulder before he covers her back up. She untucks the shift from under her knees, pointing to a small place above her ankle. “Here’s where I jumped over Winterfell’s walls to escape. And here,” she says, pointing to her knee, “Is where I fell on a rock crossing the river. This one,” she mumbles, pointing to a large half circle on her upper thigh, “I got racing to Castle Black to find you.”

Jon runs his hands over her smooth skin, smiling softly. “No more scars,” he says, “I won’t allow it.”

“You’ll not allow it?” She laughs, “How am I to prevent scars?”

He laughs too, kissing Sansa’s cheeks and lips. “I’ll find a way.”

Sansa takes a moment to kiss her husband, threading her fingers through his hair before she pulls back. “I am afraid there will be a few more.”

“Aye?” Jon questions, glancing at her with curious eyes. “What do you mean?”

Sansa grins as she pulls up her shift, above her smallclothes to expose her stomach. Jon hadn’t noticed her belly growing; Sansa was always tall with a long and slender torso. But his heart pounds with realization as she points to a few small purple ripple marks just above her hips. “They’ll grow as the babe grows, I fear.”

“You, you mean-?”

“Yes, Jon,” Sansa smiles, cradling her tiny bump in her hands. “You’ll be a father sooner than you think.”

Jon feels his eyes burn with tears as he quickly wipes them away. “Oh, Sansa,” he mumbles, kissing her quickly over and over. “You’re so impossibly lovely.”

Sansa smiles as she kisses the top of Jon’s head. These are the scars she’ll be proud to wear.

 

**Author's Note:**

> You're always welcome to find me on tumblr @ mattysigh.tumblr.com


End file.
